The seeds for this piece were planted when, on a trying evening, I recruited my daughter to help me make a “special” salad and pouts and whines (from both of us) turned to laughter and pensive smiles. Here's a poem inspired by the spirit of that night . . .
‘Twas a night before Christmas and all through the day, visions of pomegranates and persimmons had played.
I thought to myself, “What a lovely salad this would be,” and was pretty darned sure my husband would agree.
When what to my weary knees should appear, but a wailing toddler in full princess gear.
“My shoes don’t fit, my nose it runs, and I don’t like the look of this one!”
Up to her stool I whisked her, inspired. I gathered my fruits. “Will you help me?” I inquired.
I filled a bowl with water and placed it before her. Then ripped open a pomegranate and gave her a quarter.
“You see?” I teased out the garnet seeds. “They’re beautiful,” I said, and my daughter agreed.
She splashed joyfully and, with surprising speed, managed to get out every last little seed.
By this time, both of our spirits were soaring and suddenly this salad was anything but boring.
A handful of pecans onto parchment I spread, and taught Noemi to crush them without hitting her head.
She patted and shaped each cheese disc just right, while I dressed the greens and the persimmons did slice.
We assembled the salad and then took our places, and I noticed with joy smiles on everyone’s faces.
Our plates were full, our hearts were light. A delicious meal for all, and for all a good night.